


It can be heaven right here, right on my knees

by Kuribonbon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Job, Club kid Yuri, DJ Otabek Altin, Dancing, M/M, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 19:10:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11408739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuribonbon/pseuds/Kuribonbon
Summary: Yuri follows Otabek into the club and Otabek always follows him out.





	It can be heaven right here, right on my knees

**Author's Note:**

> A writing exercise I gave myself to kill my writer's block. Sar down and wrote for an hour. It's been proof read a couple times, but I know it's still rough.
> 
> Besides it's many many many many many many many faults, I hope you enjoy!

Anybody who knew him could tell you that Yuri was the most antisocial person to ever exist. Seven billion people on the Earth and there were possibly only a handful of them who Yuri actually opened up to completely. He was as cold and devastating on the ice as he was in his everyday life, but every move he made was always beautiful and precise. 

The only place he was ever social was on the dance floor between unfamiliar bodies with the flashing lights hitting him and his heart thumping along to the beat of whatever song the DJ was spinning. He became a different person, predatory but ever fleeting. It was a rare break from his usual protocol of adamant standoffishness.

Tonight he found himself in a rather desirable position. The music was pumping and the body behind him didn't know how to behave. Yuri teased and played, rubbing himself against the other when he was riding the music right and pulling away when he knew he would be begged for. 

Yuri was wrapped in liquid leather, a second skin caging his body tight and showing it off to the rest of the room. Every movement accentuated his assets, well worked muscles and bold curves. All eyes fell on him when he passed. And though everyone _was_ looking, only one set of ardent brown eyes interested him. Just like always, he sensed them on his skin as he danced. 

This wasn’t about the end product, it never was, this was about living in each second. It was about the animalistic chase, the vertical expression of a horizontal desire. Hands were loosely at his hips now, holding but allowing him all the freedom of movement he needed. Yuri threw his head back to rest on the shoulder behind him, his hair cascading everywhere as he rolled his body. 

It was true that he was considered the most aesthetically beautiful on the ice, but on the dance floor with the music thumping he was positively sinful. There were times where he wished he could have this kind of artistic liberty in one of his routines, not just his exhibitions. He would give Christophe Giacometti a fucking run for his money.

But before that would happen, either Yakov and Lilia would die of heart attacks simultaneously or they would literally bury him alive. Yuri let the thought linger for a bit until a voice whispered in his ear, disturbing him from his musings.

“Feeling good, tiny dancer?”

Yuri turned his head towards the other's ear to answer, making sure he was heard. “Better than you know.”

In an instant, he pushed off the body behind him and squeezed through the crowd. He found a decent spot in between two women. And those eyes he came to adore so much? He knew they would follow him wherever he went. So since they liked to watch and play too, he would give them a sight to behold. He reveled in the attention, it was a second home to him. 

The woman in front noticed him first, dancing closer to him. Yuri smirked asking no permission as he set his hands on the curve of the woman’s hips and brought her close. On the floor and lost in the flow of a song was the only place Yuri appreciated the female form in all its glory. 

It was also the only place he allowed the female form to appreciate him in return. The woman's hands felt comfortable against his chest as they traveled up and caressed the back of his neck. Yuri was put in a trance, thrilled to feel the sway of her hips against his. He threw his head back as he took in her heady scent. 

The music traveled through his veins like a drug. The euphoria practically dripped from him. Yuri wasn’t dancing for a number that would determine if he was worthy of some medal. He was moving simply for pleasure and, fuck if that wasn’t enthralling within itself. Before he could carry out any further actions with his newly acquired dance partner, he was pulled back flush into a strong firm chest.

“Why’d you leave me, tiny dancer?”

Yuri laughed softly and turned to face his pursuer. “Maybe because I wanted to see if you would follow.” He ran a hand through dark tresses, ignoring the sweat but admiring the tenacity. The baser intentions were noted, but would be ignored. 

“Oh, I'd follow you anywhere.”

Yuri laughed harder this time. “Unlikely.”

There was a frown and a withdrawal of hands. “Why is that?”

Yuri looked up to the DJ’s stage and met Otabek's eyes for the first time since his set started. The Kazakh nodded at him and he blew a kiss back in return. The music faded out and Otabek addressed the crowd in a sendoff. 

“It was fun, but I only dance to the beat of a specific DJ. When he’s done, I’m done.”

Yuri didn’t give any further thought to the stranger as he moved off the floor. He easily navigated the backstage, all the employees knowing him and granting him access to where he needed to be. He found Otabek putting away his equipment in one of the side rooms.

“Hey Mister DJ, you were fucking amazing tonight.” 

“Speak for yourself, you menace.”

Yuri laughed and sauntered over to where Otabek was crouched down, placing some form of electronic that he didn’t understand in it's case. The Kazakh looked up and smiled something wicked.

“I like to dance, especially when the DJ knows what the fuck he’s doing.”

Otabek grabbed onto Yuri’s hips, eyes raking over him hungrily and in complete adoration. 

“These things are lethal.” He laid a solid kiss to his thigh before scraping his teeth against the leather, causing Yuri to hiss. 

“Then I guess you’re a dead man, standing directly in the line of fire like that.”

Otabek shifted from a crouch and into a kneeling position. He trailed hard kisses against the leather from Yuri’s thigh and to the outline of his arousal straining against the fabric of his tight pants. His hands came up to cup his ass, squeezing it firmly. Yuri’s knees nearly gave out and he steadied himself with hands at Otabek's shoulders. 

Yuri had watched the Kazakh mix music live before. He was deft with his hands, not a movement out of place. Otabek used the same attentiveness when it came to lovemaking. He didn't waste time on theatrics, it was all about the pleasure of his partner.

“Twenty minutes, Yura. I set up twenty minutes of preset music before Alen comes up for his set.”

“M-more than enough time. I don’t think I’ll take that long anyways.”

And much to his character, Otabek attended to the task at hand, no pun intended. It was a struggle to peel the pants off of Yuri’s sweat slick body. A soft gasp escaped the Russian as his cock was finally sprung free and his heated skin was hit with the cool air of the room after a couple of minutes of struggle.

Otabek started to work at the base of Yuri's cock, licking broad stripes to the tip. Yuri's eyes shut as he was licked and sucked just the way he liked. Soon enough, Otabek had created a steady rhythm for him. He used his hand in the places he couldn’t attend to with his mouth. Yuri couldn’t help the involuntary thrust of his hips as he lost himself to the sensation.

It was quick and dirty and exactly what he needed. Yuri hadn’t bothered to lock the door behind him so the possibility of getting caught added an adrenaline rush.

He definitely wasn’t going to last as long as he would have liked to. The fact was cemented when he looked down and saw his dick disappear between those two plush and wet lips. He was so gone. 

The Kazakh had the nerve to look up at him. His eyes were ablaze with determination and pure _want_. It sent Yuri over the edge completely. His body coiled tight and shook as his climax tore through him. 

Otabek steadied him with a strong arm around his waist as he rode out his orgasm. Nothing quite compared to the fervor that coursed through him after he danced and Otabek took care of him. 

Yuri's body trembled in exhaustion, his hands gripping the leather beneath them tight. He didn't register that he was being spoken to until he was pinched in the ass. Yuri growled and shot a disgruntled look at his partner, his hair mussed and lips swollen from their act. 

“You alright up there?”

It took some effort, but the Russian navigated the fog in his brain to formulate a response.

“Better than you know.” Yuri laughed and pushed his sweat soaked hair away from his face. Otabek stood from the floor and gathered himself. Sensing Yuri’s concern turned on him, he responded. 

“Don’t worry, we'll take care of me when we get home. I have to take my time with what I want.”

“Deal.” 

Yuri made a mental note to Indulge Otabek in whatever he asked for as a reward for being so good to him. 

The pair made themselves as decent as possible, Otabek looking like nothing happened while Yuri was a mess, and headed towards the entrance. Otabek left Yuri at the bar as he went to collect his earnings for the night. 

Much to his surprise, Yuri was approached by the woman who he was dancing with earlier. She was beautiful, he couldn’t deny it, but without the loud music coursing through his system she wasn’t as alluring. 

Otabek returned in a couple of minutes, interrupting their idle chit-chat by placing a possessive arm around him and kissing his temple.

“Want to stay, Yura? We could if you want to.”

Yuri stood from his seat and pulled Otabek from the collar of his leather jacket. The woman was forgotten in an instant.

“Nah. I wanna catch an encore performance from my favorite DJ.”

The Kazakh laughed as he allowed himself to be pulled from the club and out into the cool night air. Yuri lead them towards Otabek’s bike, retrieving his designated helmet when they reached it. 

“It's funny, right? How I first followed you to the club and now you always follow me out?”

“If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it, right?” Otabek mounted his bike and Yuri followed suit, wrapping his arms around the other tight and laying a soft kiss to the center of his back. Yuri loved the way his lips felt against Otabek's leather. It was like it was meant to be.

With the turn of the key, the bike roared to life. Yuri tightened his arms around Otabek as they took off into the night. 

Yuri wasn’t sure if a higher power existed. He didn’t really believe in any religion. But for now, he believed heaven was right here, next to Otabek Altin

**Author's Note:**

> Im not proud of it, but hey. I've been in a slump for a while and needed something to get me out of it. Otayuri is always a nice escape for me. 
> 
> As always, any kind of feedback is both welcome and appreciated.


End file.
